


After the Kill

by gwyllion



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: Ragnar and Athelstan share a moment after King Horick’s death.





	After the Kill

**Author's Note:**

> After the Kill was written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo 2019 for prompt “betrayal.” Thanks to my wonderful beta, Gillian! And thanks to the H/C mod for running this great community!

Ragnar listens, but only silence creeps between the beams of the house, long after the kill. The fires have burned down to embers. Peace sweeps through Kattegat’s dreams.

Torstein, restored to full health, has disappeared into the night with Floki and Helga.

Rollo, too, has found rest in bed, his injuries left to heal again. 

The children, unaware of how close they came to death, sleep scattered across the bed with Aslaug. 

In a chair at Aslaug’s bedside, Siggy keeps vigil. Her gentle hand rests on Hvitserk’s head. Ragnar knows the memory of her own children’s deaths were not far from her mind tonight.

Ragnar listens to Aslaug’s breathing. He tries to breathe with it, to search for the calming effect it might have on his racing heart.

But Ragnar cannot be calm. Ragnar cannot sleep. 

The relief that comes from learning that he has strong allies and stronger friendships outweighs his concern about being king and leading Kattegat’s people.

He should fall into a peaceful slumber, but the memory of the knife twisting in Horick’s gut makes his spine feel tight like the string of a warrior’s bow. 

Bloodlust does not keep him awake. 

The relief from averting the betrayal does. 

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He opens and closes his hands, looking for something to convince him that he can seek sleep. The softness of the furs, the familiar scent of home, the weight of his children sinking into the straw mattress beside him. He slips his legs out from beneath the covers.

He knows that things could have gone so wrong tonight. The mixture of fear and relief race through him. Finally, he gives in.

His feet hit the floor.

He touches Siggy’s hand as he walks past. “Get some sleep, Siggy,” he whispers with a newfound gratitude for her loyalty. 

He regrets the day she asked to light her husband’s funeral barge and he refused her. He won’t make the same mistake again, but it weighs heavily on him all these years later—especially on a night like this, when he needed all the favours he could get.

Favours from friends, loyal kinsmen, and the help of the gods… all the gods… ensured that he and his loved ones would live to see morning.

Somehow, Ragnar drifts into Athelstan’s room. The floorboards creak with familiarity beneath his bare feet. 

“Are you awake?” Ragnar whispers, careful to not rouse those who have found sleep in the longhouse. He stops in the doorway and scans the bed for Athelstan’s sleeping form.

“I’m here,” Athelstan says quietly, from where he sits in his chair. “I must have dozed off.”

Ragnar steps toward him in time to see him close the holy book he holds in his lap.

Athelstan silently lifts the book and places it on the table beside him. A single candle burns low.

Ragnar wants to say something. He wants to make sure Athelstan knows how much he values him—more than any friend, any wife, any king. Athelstan had warned him about Horick when they were reunited in Wessex. Tonight, Athelstan has killed for him, again… despite what his Christ god has decreed about killing.

Ragnar’s mouth is dry.

“Ragnar,” Athelstan says softly, as if he knows the thoughts that torment Ragnar’s sleep.

Ragnar falls to his knees at Athelstan’s feet.

“It could have… I could have lost everything….” Ragnar says, burying his head in Athelstan’s lap.

He feels Athelstan’s soothing hand on his head. The thumb strokes the shell of his ear.

“We could have lost everything, but everything went as you planned,” Athelstan says. 

Ragnar can only imagine what it was like for Athelstan to kill for him again after the trauma he experienced in Wessex.

“I’m sorry,” Ragnar says, shaking his head. The fabric of Athelstan’s tunic brushes across his lips. “The things I ask of you….”

Athelstan’s voice is sure, “I do these things willingly.” His fingers stop moving across Ragnar’s skull where they have been tracing the familiar path of the ink. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You must know that by now.”

Ragnar tilts his head so he can catch Athelstan’s eyes. He sees only reverence there.

“There is nothing any of your allies wouldn’t do for you,” Athelstan continues as he takes Ragnar’s hands in his own. “You are fair and just. You only ask what is necessary of your people and they willingly serve you. You are going to make a great king.”

Athelstan’s words are the anchor Ragnar needs. He thinks he might be able to find sleep tonight after all. But first, he says, “Kiss me.”

Ever intent on obeying his king, Athelstan pulls Ragnar into his arms.

Ragnar rises onto his knees and breathes against Athelstan’s lips to whisper, “And don’t let me go.”


End file.
